


georgia woods

by ahegaojoong



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Awkward Acquaintances to Hesitant Lovers, Awkward Crush, Awkwardness, Broken Bones, Confessions, Georgia, Getting Together, Halloween Costumes, Hospitals, Korean-American Character, M/M, Minor Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Minor Jeong Yunho/Kim Hongjoong, Misunderstandings, Non-Linear Narrative, Past Park Seonghwa/Kim Hongjoong, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27157816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahegaojoong/pseuds/ahegaojoong
Summary: The Park family moved into the subdivision when Yeosang was twelve.Yeosang hoped that he would find a friend in his new neighbor.He didn't.
Relationships: Jung Wooyoung & Kang Yeosang, Kang Yeosang/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22
Collections: All Hallows ATEEZ Exchange





	georgia woods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the writiny community](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the+writiny+community).



> this was a real challenge! thanks so so much to minyun for the prompt- i hope this lives up to your expectations!

The _intention_ hadn’t been to get completely, utterly, beyond lost— obviously not. No, Yeosang had intended on taking a bit of a shortcut back to his house, through the woods bordering his subdivision. He wanted to get home before his friends did… for the express purpose of scaring the absolute shit out of them, of course. 

It was Halloween, after all! What would the holiday be if he couldn’t manage to make San piss his pants at least once? Absolutely _wasted_ , that’s what.

But there was one challenge besides arranging his best possible jumpscare. 

That was, navigating the woods, which he admittedly hadn’t entered for several years. When he was younger, he often came out here to play, pretending he was a warrior prince or forest nymph or whatever struck his imaginative fancy on any given day. Back then, he knew his way around the woods like the back of his hand, could tell where he was and where he needed to go by the position of the pines alone— in elementary school, he and Wooyoung once even designed a map of the area and presented it to their geography class. They’d gotten an A and one shiny golden star sticker each.

Yeosang had never _wanted_ to abandon his forest kingdom, not at all! And he probably wouldn’t have ever stopped venturing out if not for his next-door neighbor, one Seonghwa Park. 

* * *

The Park family moved into the subdivision when Yeosang and Wooyoung were halfway through seventh grade on an uncharacteristically cold November Friday during Thanksgiving break. Though the sky was blue and cloudless, the usually piercing Georgia sun felt weak, like it was shining through ice to reach them. 

Yeosang was startled awake by the sound of a truck backing up, followed by the sound of plastic crunching. He jerked up and looked around wildly, disoriented. The motion tossed Wooyoung’s arm down from where it had been slung across Yeosang’s middle— he had spent the night and they were, as usual, too lazy to blow up the air mattress. The younger boy grumbled sleepily.

“Did you hear that?” Yeosang asked. Wooyoung grunted in reply. Yeosang rolled his eyes and then clambered over Wooyoung, ignoring his unintelligible complaints.

He plucked his glasses from off the bedside table and shoved the round frames onto his face haphazardly, then padded over to peek out of the window blinds. He blinked against bright Southern sunlight, and once his eyes adjusted, he was greeted with an exciting, albeit chaotic, scene.

A family was finally moving into the empty house next door! 

And if his eyes didn’t deceive him, a young man around his age was going to be one of Yeosang’s new neighbors. A gangly Asian boy with long, floppy black hair stood on the red brick porch, wringing his hands nervously as he watched two women— his parents, maybe? — attempt to back a moving van into their driveway without flattening their mailbox or crashing into the side of their garage. 

“Wooyoung! Wooyoung, wake up! Someone’s moving in!”

“Hmnugh,” the younger replied. He rolled over.

“Woo _young_ , get _up!_ I want to go say hi!” Yeosang let the blind he was looking out from drop down closed with a soft _clunk_.

“Too _early.”_

“The sun is out. Look, see!” He yanked up the blinds in one swift motion, smirking. Wooyoung yowled like a kicked cat and jerked the covers up over his head so hard that his feet poked out. 

_“No!”_ he yelled, whiny and muffled. 

“Fine then. I’ll go by myself,” Yeosang grumbled. Wooyoung didn’t reply. 

Yeosang changed out of his pajamas and tried to ignore the anxiety beginning to bubble in his stomach and up into his throat. Objectively, he _knew_ that he could make friends without Wooyoung. He’d done it when he first transferred schools, back before Wooyoung transferred too— but that didn’t make it any less nerve-wracking to _try._

But he really wanted to know someone in the neighborhood, and this was an opportunity that he couldn’t pass up. He wasn’t going to let his nerves get in the way. Determined, he marched down the stairs and out the front door. 

-

Yeosang knew that his friendship with Wooyoung had greatly influenced him in a lot of ways. Yeah, obviously, it had made him happy just by the simple fact of _having a friend_ — but also, becoming friends with him had granted Yeosang with something that had remained out of his grasp for most of his (admittedly short) life: confidence around other people. 

Wooyoung had shown him that people really _weren’t_ as scary as he thought, or as he felt like they were.

Becoming close with someone like Wooyoung, someone so completely _different_ than Yeosang himself, had made him realize that other people could _like_ him, could like him more than he ever really even liked himself. 

He’d made more friends— Yunho and Hongjoong— and talked to teachers, raised his hand in class, and even ordered his own food at a restaurant, all without feeling like he was going to suffocate under the weight of the fear of it. 

Since Yeosang had become friends with Wooyoung, he had been on a roll.

And he wasn’t going to let that momentum stop now.

-

Yeosang jogged across the grass of his front lawn towards the newcomers, trying not to give the butterflies in his stomach too much power, keeping them locked down, tightly bound. 

Yeosang fixed his gaze on the young man on the porch; he didn’t notice him approaching, as his attention was thoroughly absorbed by the women’s valiant efforts to not demolish their newly-purchased home. 

When he got close enough, he called out, “Hey!”

And the boy nearly jumped out of his skin. His head whipped around to fix on Yeosang, eyes wide and nervous.

And then he turned on his heel and retreated into the empty house, slamming the door so hard that the handle shook, leaving Yeosang standing in the still dew-damp grass, hand still half-raised in a wave.

His fingers were cold, and icy butterflies broke free of his sternum, filling his lungs and fluttering up through his throat, frigid and smothering.

-

Yeosang learned his name the next day, when Hongjoong scurried down the seventh-grade hallway during a class change to tell them about Seonghwa Park, the quiet eighth-grade transfer student from San Francisco.

They rode the same bus home.

Seonghwa made eye contact with Yeosang when he boarded— eighth-graders got on first.

Yeosang held his backpack to his chest, sidling down the aisle as quickly as he could. He slowed down just a couple seats forward and steeled himself to give it another go— to ask if he could maybe just take a seat— 

And Seonghwa moved his own up to block off the space next to him, dropping his gaze without pause.

Yeosang didn’t try again after that.

-

Seonghwa got a silver Hyundai Elantra for his sixteenth birthday on April 3rd, 2015.

Yeosang knew about it beforehand. His mother and Ms. Park’s girlfriend had become fast friends after they had moved in, and so Yeosang came to know many things about Seonghwa throughout the years without being friends with him himself— including that his father and older brother would be flying in from South Korea to surprise him for his birthday.

He only signed the card that his mother had bought for Seonghwa after she nagged him for three days about it. 

“Maybe he could give Yeosang a ride to school sometime!” his mother had suggested over the phone after Seonghwa actually _got_ the car. Yeosang could hear her friend agreeing, tinny through the speaker, from his designated homework spot at their kitchen table. He grimaced.

“Doubtful,” he mumbled. His mother hushed him.

Shockingly, it never happened.

-

The worst of it, probably, was about a year ago, during Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s junior fall semester, when the two of them dated for a while. 

There was tension. Hongjoong _knew_ that Yeosang and Seonghwa had a weird sort of— something— that kept them from becoming friends, though he never actually _asked_ and Yeosang never _specified_. 

But Hongjoong and Seonghwa had three classes together and homeroom on top of that, and Hongjoong smiled when he talked about Seonghwa. 

So Yeosang said nothing, Hongjoong never asked, and no one ever questioned why Hongjoong alternated between lunch tables instead of just getting his boyfriend to join them at theirs. 

It hadn’t worked out, and Yeosang couldn’t help but think that it was his fault.

* * *

These woods used to be so _familiar_ , Yeosang thought as he squatted under a rotting limb, careful not to let his flannel catch on any wayward branches; his “haunted scarecrow” costume was low-effort, but it was made from his _actual clothes,_ so he didn’t want any mishaps.

He probably should have thought about that _before_ he ventured into a forest he hadn’t entered in several years, but, well. Hindsight and all that. 

The only thing he _didn’t_ wear on a regular basis was the wide-brimmed straw hat adorning his long blonde hair, which he was feeling _very_ appreciative of in the moment, as it had started drizzling and he had fake stitches drawn on his face in eyeliner; he hoped that his friends had gotten inside, even if it meant he had no chance to scare them after all. At this point, he honestly just hoped that _he_ would be able to get inside— he wasn’t sure how long he’d been wondering through the woods, but it was getting dark and cold and damp and he was starting to think that this _really_ wasn’t the most brilliant idea he’d ever had.

The ground was getting slick. The rain coated the fallen leaves carpeting the forest floor, sending him slipping and sliding across them in his treadless old Converse. 

It was _dark_ and it smelled like _rot_ and Yeosang couldn’t _see_ and—

“FUCK!” 

He tripped over something hard, ankle twinging in pain, and landed on something soft— and warm— and groaning? 

He pressed himself up to get a better look, fingers splayed wide on the soft, (?) warm (??) surface.

“S- _Seonghwa?”_ he stammered, pushing harder against his smooth and soft chest and scrambling away. 

And then he heard it— a hiss, and an agonized… sob? The sound just _barely_ rose above the raindrops pattering gently against the leaves as Seonghwa pushed himself back up into a sitting position from where Yeosang had accidentally knocked him flat.

“Yeosang?” Seonghwa asked.

“Are… are you okay?” he replied softly, frozen to the spot, his eyes searching over Seonghwa’s form, trying to discern… _something_ in the darkness.

He was silent, save for his ragged breathing. After a few moments, he opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then closed it again. He repeated the motion a couple of times, as if he couldn’t get the words to leave his throat. Yeosang didn’t know what to do. 

“Why are you on the ground?” he prompted. 

Seonghwa breathed in and out once, sharp.

“I… I tripped… Er…” His voice was shaky and weak, and his hands were clenched in fists on top of his thighs. He pulled his legs up to his chest, wincing. 

Yeosang waited silently.

“I tripped. On that tree root,” he nodded towards the tree over to the left of them— it looked really old from what little Yeosang could make out, with twisted roots piercing up through the forest floor like miniature mountains.

“I think I broke my ankle,” he continued, softer, “it hurts. I can’t really move it.”

“Shit,” Yeosang replied, eloquent as always.

“Yeah, and my phone died.” 

Seonghwa sounded so _helpless,_ and Yeosang didn’t know what to do.

“Um,” Yeosang said after the silence between them stretched too thin to bear, “do you know where we are?”

“Near Hongjoong’s house,” he replied almost instantly— and _Christ,_ no wonder Yeosang was lost; Hongjoong lived in the next neighborhood over, only a few turns away from Yeosang’s place by road but on the opposite side of the forest, pretty far northwest. 

“Oh,” replied Yeosang, continuing to be an absolutely _enthralling_ conversational partner.

“I was on the way home. I left. Earlier. When his boyfriend picked him up.”

“Ah.”

Seonghwa paused.

“Weren’t… they going to your house?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Yeosang replied, feeling awkward. “I, uh, tried to take a shortcut. And got lost,” he explained. Water was seeping through the seat of his pants from the damp ground. Seonghwa was probably worse off. Yunho was supposed to pick up Hongjoong at 5:30, and it was nearly seven now.

Silence again, thick and heavy.

Then, at the same time:

“Can I use your phone?” 

“I’ll carry you back.” 

“What?”

“What?”

The two stared at each other, awkward and shivering. Yeosang spoke first. 

“I’ll carry you back,” he repeated. Seonghwa immediately opened his mouth, looking as if he was gearing up to protest; Yeosang cut him off. 

“No one we called would be able to find us. None of my— our friends know these woods,” he said.

Seonghwa chewed on his bottom lip.

“We could drop them a location pin?” he suggested. Yeosang raised his eyebrows at him. 

“Do you really have faith that they’d manage to get out here without killing themselves?” he asked. Seonghwa grimaced.

“Good point.”

Silence fell between them again, but before it could get too awkward, Yeosang repeated, “I’ll carry you back.”

“I… You don’t have to,” Seonghwa replied, sounding pained. He wouldn’t meet Yeosang’s eyes.

Yeosang pushed himself to his feet and stepped towards Seonghwa. He held out his hand. Seonghwa blinked, looked at his hand, his face.

“You don’t have to,” he repeated, softer this time.

“I’m lost anyway. You can help me get home,” Yeosang countered, “I’m not leaving you out here, Seonghwa.”

_Not even if you want me to,_ he added on mentally, just this side of bitter. 

“You’re… lost?” Seonghwa questioned. Yeosang shrugged.

“Haven’t been out here in awhile. Tried to take a shortcut and got turned around,” he explained.

“Ah.”

They fell silent again, awkward. After a moment, Yeosang crouched, keeping his hand stretched towards Seonghwa.

“So... “ he began, offering a tentative smile.

Seonghwa reached out. His fingers were cold against Yeosang’s palm.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, dodging Yeosang’s gaze.

He hissed in pain when he hauled him to his feet, stumbling on his injured foot and the uneven ground. Yeosang turned around, stepped towards him, and crouched down. Seonghwa stared at him, mouth agape.

“I can walk!” He protested weakly. He went to take a step around Yeosang as if to demonstrate— and his foot crumpled beneath him. Yeosang jerked to the side, flinging his arms around Seonghwa’s middle to keep him upright. Seonghwa went stiff.

“Can you?” Yeosang deadpanned. Seonghwa clenched his jaw.

Carefully, Yeosang turned around, keeping one arm still wrapped loosely around Seonghwa’s middle and using the other to guide Seonghwa’s hand so that his arm was slung over his shoulder.

“I’m heavy…” he mumbled. Yeosang just yanked on his arm gently.

“I have dancer’s legs. Hop on,” he said, offering a small smile over his shoulder.

Seonghwa blinked, looking pained.

“If you’re sure…” he said, hesitant.

“I’m cold. Let’s go, yeah?” Yeosang let his hand drop from Seonghwa’s arm; his fingers grazed against his on the way down. He crouched again.

“...Okay.” Seonghwa said. He climbed on.

-

The walk back through the forest was quiet. Seonghwa’s arms were wound tight around Yeosang’s shoulders, and Yeosang’s arms were tucked around his thighs, his fingers tucked gently under his knees.

Seonghwa’s chest was warm and firm against Yeosang’s back. Their breath was asynchronous, Seonghwa’s ribs contracting just as Yeosang’s began to expand, bodies shrinking away from one another despite their closeness. 

There were a couple of times when Seonghwa’s breath caught, as if he was going to say something. He never did.

After a few minutes, Yeosang felt Seonghwa rest his cheek against his shoulder, tucking himself under the brim of the hat. A stray piece of his black hair tickled Yeosang’s neck. 

He tried not to tense up. 

“Turn left at that tree,” Seonghwa muttered. Yeosang could feel his lips moving through the thick, damp fabric of his flannel. He shuddered and hoped that Seonghwa didn’t notice.

Slowly, despite the darkness, the woods around them grew more familiar. Yeosang ignored the burning in his arms and picked up his pace, still doing his best to tread carefully.

“You can just drop me off at my house,” said Seonghwa as the trees began to thin out and the uneven ground gave way to a soft layer of pine needles. The bright floodlights Yeosang knew were installed behind their property lit his way. He furrowed his brow.

“Seonghwa, you need to go to the hospital,” he said, slowing his pace again as he emerged from the forest to his own backyard.

“I can drive myself,” Seonghwa replied detachedly. He raised his head up and adjusted his legs in Yeosang’s grip, as if to prepare himself to get off of his back.

And in Yeosang’s chest, one little heartstring, a small, almost translucent one shoved back in the corner and ignored, snapped like a rubber band pulled too taut.

“I know you don’t like me, but can you just let me help you?” he snapped, grip tightening on Seonghwa’s thighs.

Silence.

“Um,” Seonghwa’s voice was quiet in his ear, even from so close by, and there were suddenly some downright _monstrous_ butterflies flapping around clumsily behind Yeosang’s ribcage.

“Shit. Sorry. Just,” Yeosang exhaled, quick and stressed, “Let’s go to my house. We can change and I’ll drive you to the E.R., okay? It’s not safe to drive with a broken foot.”

Silence again, staggered breaths only interrupted by the faint sounds of Trick-or-Treaters shrieking and laughing as they trekked the sidewalk.

“Okay,” Seonghwa agreed quietly after a moment, and Yeosang had to hold in his sigh of relief.

“Okay,” he replied, more to himself than anything, then shifted his grip on Seonghwa.

Yeosang hiked up his back porch stairway and paused at the top; he managed to wrestle his keys out of his pocket with much effort (and almost dropped Seonghwa in the process), then unlocked the door and let them into the kitchen by gracefully kicking the door open.

“Jesus _SHIT,”_ a voice shrieked, followed by the loud _thud_ of a body hitting linoleum— and then another _thud_ and a cry of pain as Yeosang jumped in surprise and accidentally made Seonghwa smack his head on the doorframe.

“You scared the _shit_ out of me! What the fuck!” Yeosang heard San yelling through the haze of panicked thoughts that he had just concussed Seonghwa in addition to crushing _and_ shouting at him this evening.

“Babe, are you goo— wait, what the fuck happened to you two?” Wooyoung’s voice joined the din, and Yeosang remembered to be faintly glad that his friends made it to his house safely as he stepped inside and gingerly sat Seonghwa down onto his kitchen counter.

“Let me get you some ice,” Yeosang said softly in lieu of answering his best friend’s increasingly loud pleas for information.

“Seonghwa? Are you okay?” Hongjoong’s voice rang out from the ever-expanding peanut gallery while Yeosang filled a quart-size bag with ice and wrapped it in a dishtowel.

“I’m fine. I tripped in the woods. Yeosang found me and helped me back,” Seonghwa explained to his fretting best friend.

“And you probably _broke something_ so we are going to go to the E.R.” Yeosang added pointedly as he pressed the ice pack into Seonghwa’s hands; their fingers brushed, and Seonghwa twitched as if he had been shocked. Yeosang sighed.

“I’m going to go change and grab some dry clothes for you, okay?” he announced before heading out of the room and up the stairs, Wooyoung hot on his heels and San trailing after like a feral little duckling.

Hongjoong fixed Seonghwa with a look. 

_The_ look.

The one that Seonghwa could only bear for a moment before he clapped his hands to his face and moaned a muffled, “I know, I _know,”_ into his palms.

-

Seonghwa ended up only changing his shirt because Jongho told them they shouldn’t try to unlace Seonghwa’s boot before a doctor got a good look at it. Off went the damp black sweater and on went the soft, green pullover that Yeosang wore to school at least once a week— he looked strangely constipated when he offered it to him to put on, and Hongjoong looked suspiciously vindicated. Yeosang briefly wondered if Seonghwa had once commented that it was ugly or something.

Yeosang haphazardly wiped off his ruined scarecrow makeup and threw on joggers and a sweatshirt; just as he was about to leave his room, he grabbed an extra pair of sweatpants, just in case Seonghwa would be able to change later.

“Y’know, Yunho or Mingi can take him to the hospital since they both drove,” Wooyoung suggested pointedly from his spot in the living room, where everyone was piled up watching _Paranorman,_ as Yeosang descended the stairs again _._ Yunho made a noise of agreement around a mouthful of popcorn; Mingi raised his eyebrows just above the top of his glasses and nodded. Yeosang shook his head.

“Nah, I’ll go,” he said, grabbing his keys from the table next to the door and shoving his shoes into a pair of sneakers. In the kitchen, he found Seonghwa hunched over icing his foot with Hongjoong gently patting him on the back. Seonghwa sat bolt upright when Yeosang entered and moved to get off the counter.

“No, no, let me carry you again,” Yeosang insisted, still feeling a bit guilty about his outburst earlier. He hurried over and offered Seonghwa his back. Hongjoong made a tiny noise akin to a dying cat. Seonghwa slapped him; he scurried out to the living room. 

Yeosang was extremely unsure of what was going on. He turned around to look at Seonghwa, confused.

“We should probably… hurry?” he started off with a statement and ended with a question because Seonghwa looked like he was about to _cry._

“Seonghwa?” Yeosang asked, quieter, “are you okay? Does it hurt?”

Seonghwa squeezed his eyes shut and breathed out through his nose, hard.

“Uh. Someone else can drive you if you wan—”

“I don’t hate you,” Seonghwa interrupted, his eyes flying open and locking onto Yeosang’s.

“I never have. I’ve always liked you. A lot,” he continued, his sentences short and breathy, “but I never said anything because I’m _awkward_ and _weird_ and then _Hongjoong_ and—’

He cut himself off and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. Yeosang turned the rest of the way around and gingerly sat his hands on the counter on the outside of Seonghwa’s legs.

“Yeosang, the first time I saw you, you were so pretty that I had to just _leave,”_ he blurted, “or I was pretty sure that I was going to physically explode.”

“Oh,” replied Yeosang faintly, “oh.”

“So I’m,” Seonghwa continued jerkily, “uh, really sorry I was always so awkward. I just. Don’t know how to— people. I tried to… I tried to ignore it. But I couldn’t. Can’t.” He laughed, nervous and short.

Yeosang wouldn’t— couldn’t meet Seonghwa’s gaze. He stared down at their lap, unseeing in the present but goggling wide-eyed at the past because… _Oh._

It was never animosity in his eyes. Just… _panic._ Panic of a sort that was so _deeply_ familiar to Yeosang that he could taste it in the back of his throat, heavy and cold.

Seonghwa’s fingers twitched in his lap. Yeosang finally spoke, soft.

“I’m… I’m not gonna just. Ignore what you said. Because,” he sucked in a quick breath, “I get it.”

He looked up. Seonghwa’s face was so _open,_ his eyes wide and hopeful and— pretty.

“But I just… need a minute with it, okay?” Seonghwa nodded, gaze dropping. He drew his bottom lip in between his teeth.

“Plus, we need to get you to the hospital, okay?” Yeosang said gently, pulling his right hand over to rest on top of Seonghwa’s, aligning their fingers, his heart thudding quick and light in his chest like a hummingbird's wings. Seonghwa nodded again, short. Yeosang turned back around.

“Hop on?” he offered. Hesitantly, Seonghwa reached his hands out and around Yeosang’s shoulders and locked his fingers together just over his collarbones. Yeosang hoped that he couldn’t feel the staccato rhythm playing out just below.

Seonghwa scooted up; Yeosang gripped his thighs and hauled him up, then started toward the living room. They both steadfastly ignored the wink and tiny wave Hongjoong gave them as he held open the door for them. 

-

The ride to the hospital was mostly silent— the only sounds were the hum of the engine, the dull roar of the tires against the road, and the gentle chatter of the radio. 

Seonghwa hummed along to most of the songs. Yeosang wondered what he would sound like if he actually sang; good, probably, since his humming was already so melodious. 

Yeosang paid for valet parking at the hospital despite Seonghwa’s protests.

“I don’t want you to have to check in by yourself,” he bent down and explained quietly as he pushed Seonghwa inside on the rickety E.R. wheelchair that a nurse brought out to them; Seonghwa felt his ears turn pink and whispered, “Thanks.”

Yeosang pushed Seonghwa to the registration desk then stepped back to give him privacy— and just watched, watched how Seonghwa spoke, how his head tilted when he talked, watched the way his shoulders swayed back and forth without his noticing. He watched and he wondered.

They wouldn’t let Yeosang go back to the actual exam room with Seonghwa because he wasn’t a family member, but they gave Seonghwa a phone charger, and Yeosang wrote his number down on his admittance bracelet for when it turned back on.

“You don’t have to stay,” Seonghwa said quietly as he watched Yeosang scratch out the digits on the flimsy plastic. When he finished, he just looked up and smiled.

“I’ll see you in a bit,” he murmured, letting the pads of his fingers trace along Seonghwa’s palm.

-

Seonghwa had fractured his tibia and would be in a cast for at least six weeks. It took them a few hours to put it on; Yeosang went to the food court and bought himself a muffin and Seonghwa a chocolate bar. 

His cast was purple. Yeosang signed it first.

They didn’t leave the hospital until 1:23 in the morning. 

On the way back to their neighborhood, Yeosang placed his hand on the center console of his car, palm up, an offering. 

After a moment, Seonghwa took it, hesitant. Yeosang laced their fingers together and squeezed.

Yeosang parked in Seonghwa’s driveway and walked him to the door, slowly, as Seonghwa struggled a bit with his crutches; he unlocked the door for him, then paused.

He looked up. Seonghwa was looking back at him, his features tossed into stark contrast by the motion-sense LED porch light. He looked tired. They stood there, stock-still, til it went out.

“Why don’t we start again?” Yeosang asked quietly, leaning forward. The light lit up Seonghwa from behind again.

“Huh?” he replied.

“Let’s start again,” Yeosang repeated with a smile, “I’m Yeosang. I live next door. I think we should get to know each other.”

Seonghwa giggled, hardly more than a puff of air out of his nose.

“I’m Seonghwa. I think we should.”

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on [twitter](twitter.com/ahegaojoong) (18+) and please consider donating to [this gofundme](https://www.gofundme.com/f/maj-kills-cancer) to support my friend who is fighting cancer!


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